Blues
by VladimirsAngel
Summary: Raziel has a little time to sit and reflect. One-off piece. R & Ring much appreciated. ^_^


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BLUES

Disclaimer: Raziel and Nosgoth belong to Eidos Interactive, Crystal Dynamics, Silicon Knights. 

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This is just a little standalone piece of vampiric introspection. ^_^ And perhaps a bit fluffy too. Don't be too hard on me!

Very well. So now I have a new purpose in life. I only wish I felt more purposeful!

I ought to stand, to keep testing my muscles, to make sure they will keep working, but I feel numb and tired and I don't want to walk far. So I crouch like a gargoyle, with my claws dangling listlessly between my knees, and I wait, patiently, as the rain starts to soak into my scarf.

I felt (I still feel) like a pawn in this game, brought back from death that was not death to face a mission not my own. The Elder God doesn't know who he's dealing with – he'll be next, after Kain. I don't take orders from gods anymore. 

A breeze in the air, and my wings lift at my back. I'm just getting used to the sensation now. It brings back at first the joy I felt when I saw those new tendons stretch and spread for the first time, and then, almost immediately, I feel the loss as I remember that these wings are a mere shadow of what they used to be. 

I wish I had the strength to feel angry today, but I haven't. That's why I'm sat up here, watching the humans walk by below, unknowing of the demon in their midst. It's cold, as well, cold enough to snow, but I can't feel it.

Am I ever going to feel anything again? 

Thinking about it, as I step off the edge of the roof and let my ruined wings catch the air beneath them to carry me down, maybe I'm being a bit too over-dramatic. I did feel something when I first met her. Admittedly, she did catch me at a bad time – I'd been fighting, and my staff was broken: but I was glad to see her, in an odd sort of way. At least she wasn't a vampire. 

At least she wasn't _dead_.

I've seen more corpses in the last two weeks than even any vampire should have to, and I wasn't responsible for all of them. To find her, someone living, someone real…when I wasn't even sure how real _I_ was anymore…

That's why I've ended up here. The Human Realm. The last stronghold of the mortal race. It's because I, Raziel, the undead who died and rose again, am tired of death. 

I watch the faces of the humans in the square as they see me approach, and they twist in horror. Not one among them will face me in battle. They're too frightened. And that too is refreshing because the mindless charging ferocity of Kain's vampires is beginning to bore me more than slightly. 

I stand over a human girl, taller than her by a head and a half. She cowers against the wall, making imploring noises, begging me by her posture not to hurt her. I have, of course, no intention of doing so. I live in hope that someday one of them will raise their heads and look at me and realise I mean them no harm. 

But in reality, I think it is a little too late for that. It's been a long time since I went to my second death, but sometimes I think these humans remember me, remember what I used to look like – and what I used to do. Forgiveness and trust are fine things, but I can't blame them for not wanting to give them to the creature who specialised in torturing their great-great-grandparents.

So in the end I turn away from the girl and, predictably, she flees from me in terror. I dig my claws into the wall, dragging at the crumbling mortar, and climb laboriously back to my previous vantage point where I can sit, watch the rain and the birds without humans screaming and running and trying to roast me with flame-throwers.

Then I sit and wait again. I'm good at waiting. A thousand years or more in the Abyss will improve your waiting skills no end. And also, for much longer than I can recall, I had nothing I felt was worth waiting for. Now I do. 

"Raziel," she says, coming up behind me, stepping lightly across the roof-tiles. "Hey. What're you doing up here? You're soaked."

"Waiting for you," I say, not turning around. I hear her switch her tail, wagging, pleased. 

"You look sad," she says, as she sits down beside me. I shrug, expansively. If she could see my face, if I still had my mouth, I'd be smiling. 

"Not really," I reply. "Not any more."


End file.
